


It Is Time

by suspiciousteapot



Series: Imagine Claire and Jamie ficlets [13]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspiciousteapot/pseuds/suspiciousteapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: Imagine if Claire stayed in the 18th century but Jamie died at Culloden</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Is Time

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this isn't a happy fic. If this type of fic deeply upsets you, then it likely isn't the fic for you, (though there are many other wonderful fics on this site and elsewhere that probably are.)
> 
> Response to a prompt sent to imagineclaireandjamie on tumblr  
> As always, comments, etc. are greatly appreciated.

I ran my fingers through his hair; soft, now, after hours of the same treatment. His head was warm and heavy, I could so easily trick myself into believing that blood still pulsed through it. Here, with darkness whispering in my ear, I could slip into the safe delusion that the country’s tragedy wasn’t mine as well. Behind my eyelids, the world was the same place it had been last night, if I wanted it to be. If I blocked out the memories of the cart jolting through the front gate. The foul smell as I leapt up beside the body that was almost more dirt than flesh. The blue eyes that still shone with life, but stared right through me.

The ‘what-if’s and ‘if-only’s tripped over themselves endlessly, with the knowledge of penicillin as their ringleader.

—

_“Mrs. Crook, put water on to boil! Jenny, do we have any strong alcohol? Preferably grain alcohol.” I commanded, ripping open Jamie’s pant leg to asses the damage._

_“Aye, we’ve some McDonnan brewed up. I’ll fetch it”_

_For once, I tried as hard as I could to put myself back in the Great War; the brutal efficiency of treating a stranger.  Yet my mind struggled against the deep despair that opened somewhere deep inside me as soon as I saw the red lines that streaked out from the ghastly wound._

_Blood poisoning._

_My own blood rushed in my ears. The infection was too advanced to be saved by amputation, awkwardly placed as it was so close to where his torso began._

_Mechanically, I washed around the wound with the warm water Mrs. Crook brought out, instructing her to bring some more water to a boil and not mix it with cold. Jamie moaned quietly as I picked bits of dirt, small leaves, and other debris from the wound._

_“Shh, you’ll be fine. It will be fine. I’m just fixing you up now.” He relaxed momentarily, whether he’d understood my words, or simply recognized my voice, I didn’t know._

_Jenny handed my the alcohol, its sharp smell suffusing the air as I unstoppered it._

_“Jenny, hold his shoulders.”_

_As I knew he would, he screamed and thrashed as I doused the wound, fighting with all the strength he had left. He couldn’t even displace his sister. I took a deep breath, trying and failing not to be shaken by his weakness. ‘He’s recovered from worse’._

_‘In spirit,’ a cold, detached part of my mind reminded me. ‘A festering hand can be fully immersed and soaked in water, and even cut off if it comes to it. Even if you wash the leg constantly, you won’t achieve anything close to the same effect, and try amputating a leg so high up and you’d likely cut his femoral. How will you stop the bleeding? How will you sew him back up? Even if he lived through that, the infection’s spread. You can’t get it all. There’s nothing you can do.’_

_“He’s burning up.” Jenny’s voice broke through my reverie._

_“Bring a cloth with cold water. And some water for him to drink.” Jenny nodded and darted away._

_“Claire?” His voice was thin and barely rose above a whisper._

_She shifted to sit by his head, where he could see her._

_“Jamie, I’m here. You’re hurt, but -”_

_A sweet smile broke over his face. “My love. God, ye do look so lovely wi’ your great eyes all gold, and your hair so soft round your face.” His hand twitched, and I took it instinctively._

_“I was so afraid to lose ye, mo chridhe. So afraid. I couldna bear… but the though of you dying, and of the bairn dying with ye…” Tears cleared narrow, clean tracks down his face. “It killed me to send ye away, but I had to. I had to se ye safe. I promised I would.”_

_I could barely see him through my tears, but I pressed my lips to his._

_“I know you did, Jamie. You saw us safe.” I stroked his hair gently, eliciting an even sweeter smile. “You kept your promise, but now you have to keep another, alright?”_

_His eyes were still locked with mine, the smile still curving his broad mouth, but he made no reply. Paradoxically, my own heart beat faster._

_“Jamie? JAMIE, GOD DAMN IT, YOU CAN’T -”_

_I fumbled for his pulse, but couldn’t find it. No._

_“Mistress.” Mrs. Crook was standing in the doorway with the water._

_“Give it to me and hold his shoulders.”_

_Mrs. Crook obeyed without question._

_His leg jerked as I poured the boiling water carefully into the wound, and my heart leapt with it._

_‘Just a nervous reaction,’ the cold voice reminded me._

_I firmly blocked it out._

_“Jenny, do you have the water?” I asked, propping his head on my lap._

_“Claire.” Her voice was soft, broken._

_“Give me the God damn water. He needs -” My own voice cracked. “He needs-”_

_I felt her arms come around me as my world finally shattered._

—

Hours ago, now. The sun has set on his peaceful face, and Ian and Jenny had left. Fergus had sat with me, trying to hold back his own tears before silently letting them pool beside Milord.

Jenny had come shortly after nightfall, carrying Fergus upstairs.

All I could see, even when the darkness stole it from my eyes, was Jamie’s face, forever frozen in a sweet, gentle smile.  

As the sun rose, I knew I too would have to rise and leave him as he had already left me.

A hand rested gently on her shoulder “Claire, mo caraid, it is time.”

**Author's Note:**

> The gaelic is roughly - my close friend/relative. It seems to be the equivalent of ‘my dear’, as there is no direct translation of ‘my dear’
> 
> Note that the lines "My love. God, ye do look so lovely wi’ your great eyes all gold, and your hair so soft round your face." and "I was so afraid to lose ye, mo chridhe. So afraid. I couldna bear… " are from Voyager, and of course "Claire... it is time" is from 2x07.


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